


Now the Ice Is Broken

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Related, F/F, F/M, Fic, Multi, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:43:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick and dirty missing scene for 4.07. Spoilers!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now the Ice Is Broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snoopypez](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=snoopypez).



"Okay," said Neal, grabbing a wineglass from the table, "I think we got it. It's a wrap." He gulped down the whole glassful, avoiding everyone's eyes.

"Good," said Sara briskly. "So, I guess we can get going—"

"There is one more thing," said El. Something in her tone made Neal glance across at her, despite himself, but her gaze was fixed on Peter. "You've put on your show. Now it's Neal and my turn." She licked her lip. "If that's all right with Neal, of course."

"Uh," said Neal eloquently.

"I think this is my cue to leave." Sara's eyebrows were heading for her hairline, but it wasn't like she didn't know how Neal felt about Peter and Elizabeth. He'd admitted his feelings during the whole Adler mess. A master class in complicated didn't even begin to describe it. 

Neither Peter nor Elizabeth stopped her from walking out, and Neal was pretty much incapable of moving for fear of breaking the moment. He poured himself another glass of wine and carefully didn't look at Peter, but as soon as the door shut behind Sara, Peter's footsteps headed to the door too, and Neal had to look. Was Peter mad? Was he leaving? No, he was wedging one of the dining chairs under the door handle. God. 

"Neal?" Elizabeth sounded close and— and gentle, as if she were afraid of scaring him off. Neal would've laughed if he could have got past the paralysis.

"Elizabeth, this isn't—" He put the glass down and turned to her. "What are you doing?"

"Satisfying my own long-standing curiosity," she said, "and giving Peter a thrill. At least, I am if you are."

"He'll never—"

"Yes," said Peter, "he will." He was on the other side of the table, but he came closer now, his tread light, his voice just as gentle as Elizabeth's. "But only if you want to. Don't let El boss you into anything."

"No pressure," said Neal. "Peter—" He managed to meet Peter's eye and saw a wealth of feeling there, heat, affection, certainty. Neal swallowed his hysteria. "Why now?"

"Well, I think Peter and Sara, I don't know, broke the ice?" Elizabeth stepped in and took the camera from his unresisting grasp. Her voice grew quieter, more serious. "After you ran— Neal, you didn't see. Peter was lost without you. He was—"

"I wasn't that bad," said Peter defensively. "I survived." 

"Honey, you were barely functioning," said Elizabeth matter-of-factly. "The only thing keeping you going was finding Neal and bringing him home. And I—"

"You weren't lost," said Neal. Elizabeth was too sure of her place in the world to lose herself. She had Peter.

"No," she agreed, drawing it out. "No, but I missed you. And now— everyone's back where they belong, and— why not now?"

Because, thought Neal. Because you'd be risking everything. Because I'm keeping secrets again. Because— "Why not now?" he echoed. 

"Am I taking photos with this?" Peter held up the camera. He sounded throaty, trying to hide it with humor. 

"That's up to you, hon." Elizabeth tilted her head. "Though in the interest of discretion, we might not actually want photographic evidence."

"God," Neal burst out, "how can you—" He broke off. 

Peter was at his side in an instant. "What? You want us to back off? We can forget this ever happened."

"No." Neal reached for his hand, caught his wrist instead and held it in a death grip. "Just— you're both being so casual about it, and I've been—" He took a shaky breath. "It's been a long time," he said, staring at some distant point between them. "I didn't think I had a chance."

Peter freed his wrist and took Neal's hand, weaving their fingers together. His thumb brushed back and forth across Neal's knuckles soothingly.

"We're not being casual," said Elizabeth. "Or, well, if we are, put it down to a coping mechanism. Neal, honey—" She put her hand on his free arm, and her gaze was solemn and direct. There was no escaping it. "Do you want us to leave?"

He shook his head.

Her mouth softened into a faint smile. "To slow down? Do you want Peter instead of—"

Before Neal could overthink it or say something to screw it up, he slid his hand into her hair and cut her off with a kiss. She kissed back immediately, opening to him, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing against him, regardless of the fact that her husband was standing beside them, that Neal was still holding his hand. Maybe it was the wine, the years of fantasizing about this, the general surrealist gestalt of it all that was throwing Neal off his game, but hell, he was kissing Elizabeth—never thought he'd get the chance to do that—so he focused on what he knew how to do, taking her with his mouth, releasing Peter so he could map a path down the luscious curves of her back to her waist, one hand continuing to her ass to drag her even closer. Memorizing every gasp and shudder.

"I don't think he wants to slow down," Peter muttered wryly, and Elizabeth reached out without breaking the kiss and smacked his arm, making him laugh low. There were footsteps and the scrape of chair legs and Peter's presence ceased to loom. 

Neal tore his mouth from Elizabeth's and pressed his forehead to hers, fighting to catch his breath. "Are you sure?"

"Oh honey." Elizabeth's mouth was swollen from kissing, her eyes dark and sultry, her cream suit crumpled and makeup smudged. "You have no idea." She gave him a gentle shove toward the bed and followed after, removing his tie clip, unknotting his tie with teasing exactitude. 

Neal licked his lips and watched helplessly until her wedding ring caught the light. That set off a new avalanche of feelings, and he looked up to find Peter sitting in a dining chair, still shirtless, his knees wide, watching with an expression like nothing Neal had seen before.

It rendered all doubts and fears irrelevant.

Elizabeth's hands were on his body, pushing his shirt aside. He was allowed to touch her back. It seemed the height of greediness to want more, but— "Peter?"

"Mmmm?"

It was more a subterranean rumble than a reply. Neal cast around for a debonair quip, some sophisticated way to lure him closer, but all he had was, "I want—"

"What is it, hon?" Elizabeth cupped his cheek, taking liberties as if they were already lovers. "Anything." A tension was running through her though, and Neal still wasn't sure what the limits of "anything" might include. 

Screw it. It couldn't hurt to ask. He pressed his mouth to Elizabeth's one more time, for luck, and met Peter's gaze. "So, are you just going to watch, or are you going to come over here and make yourself useful?"

"Oh, yay!" said Elizabeth, all tension dispelled, and while she was still saying it, Peter crossed the gap between them in a few long strides. There was none of the hesitance he'd displayed with Sara, no awkwardness at all. He angled in beside Elizabeth, his bare chest brushing Neal's skin, and oh God, his mouth was hot on Neal's shoulder, burning a trail up his throat and finally, after years of waiting and wanting and knowing it was hopeless, finally meeting Neal's, with everything that signified and entailed.

After that, things blurred. There was a unanimous move toward the bed. Peter and Neal combined forces to help Elizabeth out of her clothes and jewelry, and then she and Peter gave Neal the same treatment, stripping him down till he was bare skin and anklet—Peter rested his hand over the anklet a moment, half apology, half connection—and they all kissed and moved together, mouths and hands everywhere in a sexual delirium that could have happily lasted a lifetime, as far as Neal was concerned. Elizabeth was more vocal than he'd thought she would be, and Peter's obvious hunger was the best kind of drug. Put together, it was like diving in slow motion into a heavy wave of desire. Then Elizabeth gasped, either from Neal's licking her nipple or something Peter did, and her sudden urgency must have been contagious, because the lazy, sensuous discovery gave way to need, to Neal's hand wrapped tight around Peter's cock, and Elizabeth straddling Neal and sliding onto him with a groan. 

"Oh fuck, Elizabeth," breathed Neal, already close, his senses and his heart full.

She swore and tipped her head back, riding him unsteadily, a crease between her eyebrows. 

Neal's hand had stilled on Peter's cock, and Peter disengaged and propped himself up, watching them. "Better than I ever imagined," he murmured, "you two."

"More than I ever hoped," said Neal. 

Elizabeth moaned, her thighs flexing steadily under Neal's hands, and managed to smile down at them. "My boys."

Peter sat up further and kissed her hard, halting her movements and making her clench around Neal. Neal had to fight to keep from coming then and there, watching them, feeling her, and alive with the breathtaking intimacy of what they were doing. Peter pulled back, sent Neal a warm glance and moved behind Elizabeth, straddling Neal's knees. The next thing Neal knew, he had an armful of El, and she was shaking, swearing against his shoulder. "I'm not always so take, take, take," she said, turning her head toward him. "It's just—there's so much to _ohhhhhh._ " She broke off with a deep groan that Neal felt all the way down his spine.

"I like it," he told her, framing his face with her hands. "Seriously, take all you want."

They tried to kiss, but there was hair was everywhere and she seemed distracted by whatever Peter was doing, so Neal gathered her hair to one side and held her, rolling his hips as best he could, despite Peter's weight on his legs, to give her what she needed. Apparently it was enough. Within a few minutes, she cried out an incoherent mix of endearments and profanity. Her body quaked, and it set him off too, gasping and coming inside her. 

When he opened his eyes, Peter had his hand on Elizabeth's shoulder, but he was watching Neal as if he wanted to soak in every detail. "Hey."

"Hey." Neal felt completely undone and dangerously close to declaring his undying love for both of them. He changed the subject before he could say anything stupid. "What were you doing back there?"

Peter looked smug. "Lower back. _Low_ lower back. Very sensitive. Drives her wild."

"The fact that it was you two doing the driving may have had something to do with it too," said Elizabeth indistinctly. "I'm not just a collection of hotspots."

"I never meant to suggest you were," said Peter. "My apologies."

Elizabeth peeled herself off Neal and rolled onto her side, pushing her tangled hair out of the way and regarding them with amusement. "You know what drives Peter wild?" she said to Neal.

"I'd like to." 

"You." She grinned. 

Neal laughed. "Still having a hard time believing this is happening at all."

"He thinks we're the unbelievable ones," Elizabeth told Peter.

"Even Neal Caffrey has some blind spots," said Peter, with such fondness that Neal grabbed him and pulled him close, finding himself sandwiched between them, Elizabeth sated and Peter still hard.

"What do you want?" said Neal. "Anything."

"I—" Peter flushed, but before he could say more, Elizabeth interrupted.

"I want to suck him off while he kisses you," she told Neal. "I mean, if that works for you guys?"

"Works for me," said Neal, as Peter leaned across, kissed her, and murmured, "Best wife ever."

"On your back, best husband ever." Elizabeth pushed him down and winked at Neal. "Go to town." She licked her way down Peter's body, stopping occasionally to give certain places extra attention, and Neal watched, rapt, until Peter tugged him close. 

"Come here," he said. "You can enjoy the view next time."

"Glad to know there's going to be a next time." Neal took a moment to appreciate Peter's face from this new angle and then softly kissed his mouth. It still felt thrilling and illicit, and Peter let him set the pace. Neal kept it sweet and almost chaste, teasing, until he felt Elizabeth get into position. Then he shifted closer and turned up the heat. Peter responded in kind, and Neal all but melted in his arms, reveling in his body, his touch, the arousal thrumming through him. It wasn't just pleasure, either; Neal felt fiercely protective, determined to shelter them from harm, to ensure they had whatever they needed. It was nothing new, this compulsion, but it was stronger and more insistent because they were his now. They were really his.

Peter's thumb slid along Neal's collar bone, kisses growing more fervent and intense. He groaned El's name, and the next thing Neal knew, Peter was gripping his shoulder like a vice and panting into his mouth, coming. Neal kissed him through it, grateful for the opportunity, aching with love.

Elizabeth crawled back up the bed, flushed and smug, and gave Neal a dirty kiss that tasted of Peter, and then they all caught their breath. 

"What happens now?" said Neal, trying for casual. 

Peter kissed his shoulder. "That depends on you."

"Stay for breakfast," said Neal, so he wouldn't ask for something big and impossible.

"Yes," said Elizabeth. She snuggled closer and hooked the covers up with her foot.

"Yes," said Peter, draping his arm across Neal's waist. "It's a start."

Neal closed his eyes, used and worn out and loving it. Peter and Elizabeth were holding hands across him, but they seemed content to let him stay in the middle, right where he wanted to be, and the sleepy conviction caught and lodged—Peter was right as usual. This was only the start.

END


End file.
